Flower Girl and Shadow Boy
by spirithamburger
Summary: 50 Roxith oneshots. Some fluffy. Some angsty. All cracky. Hey, it's Roxith. Roxas, Aerith, Roxith, crack. UPDATE: 3.21.08 No.5 Bane, uploaded. &I wake in the morning and all that I hear is the absence of sound...
1. Quarrel

Okay, I did it. I decided to do a Roxith themes challenge. Go me. It's probably gonna be one-shots rather than drabbles or sentences (because Roxith is SO FREAKIN' CUTE I can't limit it to a paragraph or what-ev.) so prepare yourselves for some Roxith spamming. _**Also, please provide feedback on whether you prefer I post these as chapters, or seperately. Thanks.**_

Oh, by the way, I'm using the list of theme's that starlit irisdescence used in 'Valse Triste'. To see what those are, go READ it! It's yummeh Zexiri goodness. :D

Anyways, the first theme is...**Quarrel.**

(because writing Roxas and Aerith bickering is just too fun)

Disclaimer: I do not own FF, KH1 or 2 or any of these entirely innocent characters. We're just playing.

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"Shopping?" Aerith was wearing a look that would've meant 'Are you freaking SERIOUS?!' if she'd been the type to use the word "freaking" in her daily vocabulary. It was honestly not a look Roxas had seen too terribly much. The two were sitting on one of the many conveniently placed benches that dotted the First District, discussing possible plans for the day.

They'd decided that, after coffee and awkward chitchat at her dinner table grew sort of old, that they should start going places, seeing things and finding new topics for discussion. The weather and sports scores were getting old. So, Aerith and Roxas had mutually agreed to alternate days, with her picking the activity one day, him the next and so forth.

It wasn't dating, each one told themselves repeatedly, it was a way to liven up the conversation. That was all.

Thus far, they'd toured the entire city (an activity that had left Roxas's feet aching from having to walk through every single side street that made up one of Aerith's 'shortcuts'. She just wondered why he'd collapsed to his knees and thanked her profusely when she agreed it was time for a rest.), gone to the movies (Roxas couldn't remember what they'd seen. After he accidentally bumped his fingers against hers in the jumbo tub of popcorn he kinda forgot about everything else – including breathing, for a moment, which had concerned Aerith slightly.) and visited a flower shop, tucked into a remote corner of the second district (if Roxas never had to be consulted whether he preferred lavender or purple pansies for a garden border again, he could die happy. Well, fade happy. Whatever, he'd be HAPPY. Aerith had just been patiently vexed by yet another one of the male species who didn't know the subtle differences between various colors.).

Now it was Roxas's turn to choose and he'd sprung this shocker – 'Let's go shopping today!' – which had left Aerith wearing her best 'what-the-crap' face. He had to admit though, for a 'what-the-crap' face it was still fairly sweet and polite, if completely and utterly puzzled.

"You...want to go...shopping?" Aerith repeated, tilting her head slowly to one side and blinking her large pale green eyes very slowly at Roxas.

"Yeah." he said, clearly wondering why she seemed so confused. "You told me there were some great shops in the Second District and you'd show me them someday. Well, today's the day."

Aerith still wore a faint frown as she reached up and absently brushed her long sienna-brown bangs out of her face, hoping her expression didn't belie her thoughts – _Yes, but I thought I'd have to drag you in there. I never thought you'd VOLUNTEER..._

"Well." she began slowly, folding her hands in her lap and taking a deep breath. "You do know you can pick whatever you want, right?" she ventured, a little hesitantly, trying to pick up any sort of clues from his expression as to what on earth was going on under that impossibly spiky golden hair. Aerith had always been modestly proud – if such a thing existed – of her ability to read people. But Roxas was severely trying this talent of hers.

Roxas blinked at her, brow furrowing slightly at the weird, searching look she was giving him. "Yeah..." he said slowly, starting to feel a little uncomfortable under her piercing gaze.

"Because, well, if you're picking that for me, you don't have to." Aerith said gently, but earnestly, trying to figure out if that's what he was trying to do. "I mean, if I really want to go shopping, we can go tomorrow, or the next day it's my turn to pick."

"I know. I wanna go." Roxas said matter-of-factly, with a cheerful, breezy smile.

Aerith faltered slightly under the smile (which somehow almost reminded her of something she'd forgotten). He did seem happy about...shopping. Well, of course it was perfectly acceptable for some men – boys, guys, males, whatever – to enjoy shopping. But she hadn't really expected Roxas to be one of them. Something about his slightly alternative style (mostly black on white clothes and elaborately gelled hair) and his almost brooding expression made it hard for her to imagine him wandering around the Second District with a bunch of shopping bags. It wasn't that him liking shopping was _wrong_, exactly. It was just...unexpected.

"Well." Aerith said again, taking a deep breath, then shrugging her slight shoulders. "If that's what you want, we'll go. You have enough munny?"

Roxas laughed as the two got to their feet and started towards Aerith's house, down the street a little, for her own cash to finance this shopping spree. "Believe me, I have plenty." he said, arching his eyebrows in a way she didn't quite understand.

"O-kay. One moment..." Aerith quickly stepped into her house, shutting the door almost too quickly, then leaning against it, with a deep frown. Had she been hallucinating? Or had Roxas, quiet, thoughtful, sometimes even dark Roxas actually just invited her to go..._shopping_?

"Odd." Aerith remarked to the hung-up coats and carefully arranged boots by the door. Then she sighed softly, trying to remind herself that she really barely knew Roxas. For all she knew he could be obsessed with penguins or, worse, have a secret addiction of some sort that he was taking care to hide from her.

When she thought about it that way, shopping didn't seem like such a big deal.

"Okay then." Aerith said in what she hoped was a bright and carefree tone as she pushed open her door and flashed a brilliant smile at the waiting teenager. She slipped her wallet into one of the carefully hidden pockets of her pale pink dress and carefully straightened the matching bow that held her hair in place. "I'm ready."

Roxas had apparently been studying his feet very intently, but upon hearing her voice, glanced up and offered a half-smile, pulled out of whatever thoughts he'd been burying himself in. Aerith absent-mindedly smoothed inexistent wrinkles from her skirt, a light furrow etched between her delicate brows. Sometimes he seemed so introverted, so withdrawn inside himself that she'd suddenly hear a voice that sounded suspiciously like hers, prattling on and on about the most nonsensical things, for the sole purpose of getting a reaction out of him. It was like she periodically needed to reassure herself that it was still possible to get him out of whatever contemplations he was constantly steeped in.

Sighing softly, Aerith glanced down at her feet as she fell into step with Roxas, noting with vague interest that her brown boots and his black sneakers were almost the same size (maybe he could even wear her shoes...all right, that thought had just wandered into the peculiar zone). Deep down she was almost becoming weary of trying to understand the moody, contemplative blond males in her life.

"All right," Aerith began on a whim, trying to make herself forget the other golden-haired young man who tended to stray into her thoughts. Roxas glanced up at her, hands buried deep into the pockets of his black jacket, both eyebrows arched expectantly. Steepling her fingers, Aerith cleared her throat and began, in a thoroughly business-like voice, "There's the Hatter's for starters, which is very nice, even if the owner is a bit odd, and the styles there are more designed for the general public, so it shouldn't cost too much. However, if you want quality, there's always Reno's, next door, but they have a lot of women's-wear, so you might be bored. Then there's O&M's, which is _very_ classy, but ridiculously expensive. My personal favorite is Hayden's Formal, but..."

Aerith trailed off as she suddenly noticed the very confused, wide-eyed look Roxas was giving her, hardly paying attention to where he was going, so involved in giving her his own version of the infamous 'what-the-crap' face. He actually looked almost frightened by her elaborate explanation of all the stores in the Second District, head tilted to one side, brow furrowed, an extremely bewildered, rather uncomfortable half-scowl on his face.

When she finally looked at him, he blinked once or twice at her, then, cleared his throat as if to buy time. "Aerith." Roxas began, very slowly and carefully, as if speaking to a clearly deranged person, "Can I please ask: what in the name of all that's holy are you freakin' talking about?"

"What do you mean?" was the flower girl's puzzled reply, face falling as she realized this wasn't going to be as easy as she first imagined. She was learning that nothing was easy when you were interacting with Roxas. Not even a simple, ordinary, everyday shopping trip.

Roxas stopped abruptly, a few yards from the gate to the Second District, crossing his arms and raising one eyebrow – it was always the left one, Aerith had noticed by now, and it always quirked at this funny angle – at her. "I mean, why did you decide to abruptly start rattling off the names and descriptions of every single clothes store in the Second District?" he inquired.

His tone wasn't exactly sarcastic, but it was slightly flat and Aerith felt herself starting to get a little irritated with him. He really didn't need to act so dry with her. After all, this wasn't _like_ shopping with Yuffie or another girl. She didn't know how she was supposed to explain the stores to a newcomer – a MALE newcomer – or what he was expecting by way of a summary of his options. She just didn't know what to do. And anyways, Aerith thought with a very mild frown, HE was the one who had wanted to go shopping.

With an exasperated sigh, Aerith crossed her arms and gave Roxas a patient, but bordering on vexed look. "I was simply trying to explain, Roxas," she began in her best reasonable, but firm voice, "Which stores carry what, so you'd know what you're dealing with. If you'd prefer to simply find out for yourself-"

"Clothes stores." Roxas interrupted, raising both eyebrows now, and pressing his lips together in a way that was decidedly annoyed.

"Yes." Aerith said, frowning slightly, not used to being interrupted by anyone.

"Stores that sell _clothes_." Roxas repeated, pronouncing the last word with at least four syllables, as if speaking to a very young child.

Through with being condescended to, Aerith just sighed wearily and, with a helpless, sort of 'what-can-you-do' shrug, said again, "Yes, Roxas. Clothes stores."

"Why?"

He sounded so genuinely confused and indignant that Aerith frowned slightly and eyed him. "You said you wanted to go shopping..." she said slowly, not quite understanding him now. Though really, when had she ever completely understood everything the blond boy said and did?

Roxas stared blankly at her for a moment. Then it was like someone flicked the light on, because a look of comprehension replaced the blankness and he nodded once or twice, slowly, with an understanding, "Ah, I see..."

"See what?" Aerith inquired in a mostly good-natured tone, really wishing he would enlighten her too. This entire conversation – well, it was more of an argument now, wasn't it? – was bordering on ridiculous.

He gave her that cute – did she just think cute? She meant, uh, CHARMING – crooked grin and, almost laughingly, said, "You thought I meant clothes shopping."

"Well." Aerith said, taken aback, but still vaguely relieved that their quarrel seemed to be over. He was smiling. That was always good. "Yes." Truthfully, to Aerith (and probably every other female in existence) 'shopping' equaled several hours wandering around buying clothing. It had never occurred to her that he might mean something else.

Roxas laughed for real this time, shaking his head and raking his fingers backward through his hair. "Well, I guess that's my fault." he remarked, glancing down and examining his shoes. Aerith glanced at his feet briefly, wondering why he was addressing them rather then her, then sighed in a fond way and rolled her eyes. No use trying to understand the peculiar boy. Every time she thought she knew him, he surprised her.

Now, clearing his throat rather awkwardly and sticking his hands in his pockets, Roxas met her eyes again and said, almost sheepishly, "I mean like, stuff-shopping. You know. Touristy...junky...weird...crappy... stuff. Like dumb plastic keychains and lame t-shirts."

"Oh." Aerith said, considering this for a moment with her lips pursed, giving her a very cute almost pouty look that (though she was unaware of this) really didn't help Roxas's nervous state too terribly much. "Well, I suppose that makes more sense." she said with a little laugh of her own, that beautiful, happy smile back on her face.

"Yeah..." Roxas said slowly, looking back at his feet. They were getting a lot of attention today. "Sorry if I...didn't make that clear."

"It's fine." Aerith said with a little shrug, tossing her braid back over her shoulder. Then she cleared her throat, touching his shoulder briefly, then gesturing at the gate to the Second District. "In that case, we should try Moore's. It's a sort of novelty shop, it has everything."

Roxas nodded, though really he hadn't heard a single word of it. He was too busy trying to make his legs move, every bit of his brain centered on the spot where she'd just touched him. Aerith smiled again, softer this time, pausing in the midst of opening the door to look over her shoulder and motion him over with a graceful – how could she make even THAT graceful? – jerk of her head. "C'mon, before the moogles buy all your plastic keychains." She said with a little laugh.

Forcing himself out of his dreamy, dazed thoughts (which included, but weren't limited to never washing his shoulder again) Roxas gave an apologetic grin and hurried after her.

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Okay, first of all, to explain - I did not decide, in my perpetual daze induced by playing KH too many times, that I was going to make Roxas a shopaholic. You may not believe me, but it's CANON.

Manga canon, yes...but CANON NONETHELESS!!

Seriously, in the KH2 manga, the reason Roxas doesn't have enough money to take the train to Sunset Hill (or whatever it's called) is because he bought an Easter Island tissue dispenser.

I'm not lying. AN EASTER-FREAKIN'-ISLAND _**TISSUE DISPENSER!!!!!!!! **_(the tissues come out of the nostrils. XD I'll provide a link to the scan, if you don't believe me)

If that's not a sign of severe shopaholicism, nothing is...oh, by the way, the next ficlet is sort of a sequel to this one. But, because I'm a mean little writer (and I'm exhausted and have to get up in about 6 hours) I'm gonna post that one tomorrow...hope you all enjoy!!

(by the way, all the shop names have special significance. PM me if you figger them out...)


	2. Quirk

Okay, here it is! Theme number 2 - **Quirk.** This is an idea I've been formulating for a while, wanting to incorporate the weird quirks (because SERIOUSLY every single KH character is twice as weird in the manga XD) of Roxas and Aerith and making the end suitably angsty. Mwa-ha. This is kind of a sequel to **Quarrel** and...well, I thought it was fairly good. But then, I wrote it in the middle of the night.

I really need to stop doing that.

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Exhaustion for Aerith had a new definition – shopping with Roxas. Honestly, the guy was like a shopping machine (as long as they were seeking out video games, t-shirts and the pursuit of crappy souvenirs), going from shop to shop in a meticulous, careful manner that made Aerith start to suspect he'd mapped all this out last night in his hotel room.

For the first hour or so, she kept up with him, occasionally commenting on the quality (or lack thereof) of the pencil holder emblazoned with 'Traverse Town Rocks' in seventeen different colors. As time went on, though, she found comments harder to bring up, due to exhaustion and due to the fact that his choice of merchandise was getting progressively weirder. Aerith weighed the matter carefully in her mind, and came to the conclusion that it was really better to keep her mouth closed when Roxas picked up a moogle-shaped pencil sharpener made of garishly painted ceramic in the eighth shop.

But now, with a bag in each hand and her feet aching, Aerith was hardly registering where they went or what he bought. He could be stocking up on anything from alligator eggs to zebra steak (she was hungry too, and anything food-related made her stomach growl) and she wouldn't notice.

But, finally, after everything started to blend into a continuous blur made of cheap plastic and with price tags plastered all over it, she heard those blessed words – "Hey, Aerith, you want to stop for lunch?" She didn't even have it in her to voice her agreement, just nodded emphatically.

Actually, it wasn't until she was seated in a comfortable chair, deep in her mug of green tea sweetened to perfection – had she had enough willpower left to do that, or did Roxas just know by now what she liked? – that Aerith's mind cleared enough to let her know where she was. When she looked slowly around and realized it though, her heart immediately sank and she gave a soft, depressed sigh, hoping against hope that Roxas hadn't been TOO efficient and had ordered anything.

"Um, excuse me, Roxas?" the young woman ventured, setting down her mug and folding her hands on the table.

"Hmm?" Roxas replied vaguely, distracted by trying to figure out how his latest purchase – a piggy bank shaped like an excruciatingly ugly man with furry legs, horns, a tail, and a look that spoke of murderous thoughts – opened.

"I was just wondering..." Aerith inquired, trying to appear nonchalant, her eyes downcast as she slowly traced the scalloped design on the paper tablecloth. "What made you pick this place?"

Roxas was prevented from answering for a moment as the ugly-goat-man's head came off in his hands. He gaped at the two pieces of plastic for a moment before realizing it was _supposed_ to do that, then breathed a sigh of relief and began trying to reattach the dismembered head. "It has curry." he said matter-of-factly, scowling back at the fierce little head in his hand. "You like curry."

That was admittedly true, and it was very sweet that he'd remembered that and planned accordingly. Aerith really didn't want to say anything and possibly offend him, but there was this glaring problem... "Uh, have you ordered yet?" she asked, nervously twirling one strand of her cinnamon-colored hair around her finger.

Goat-man-head made contact with goat-man-neck at that exact moment, and Roxas took a moment to look triumphant before carefully and reverently setting the hideous thing aside. "Yeah, I just went ahead and got two specials. You seemed a little out of it." he half-teased, blue eyes dancing mischievously at her. "I understand. Inhaling all those commemorative Traverse Town candles had my head spinning too."

Aerith managed a hesitant half-smile, realizing that this was the first time she'd seen him like this – happy, teasing, almost playful. Well, it really wasn't that big of a deal, was it? She could just remedy the situation on her own and hope he didn't notice. "Well, thank you." she said softly, looking down at the table again, then hiding her lingering anxiety by sipping her tea again.

Roxas grinned, reaching for his own drink of choice – coffee, black. She didn't understand how he managed to be so sedate and calm, with all that caffeine running through him. They made conversation for a while, and Aerith noted with contentment that it wasn't awkward and stilted. That was certainly progress.

However, the comfortable atmosphere vanished – at least for Aerith – when the food arrived. Two large bowls of steaming, fragrant curry were set in front of the pair, accompanied by a fresh refill of coffee and tea for each of them.

Roxas thanked the server brightly, arching his eyebrows in that same gleeful way that made him seem half his age. "Well, enjoy." he said cordially, picking up his spoon and digging in.

Aerith managed a small smile, eyeing the curry as if it would rear up and bite her. It was actually a well-cooked, appealing bowl of curry, heavy on the sauce with various vegetables and bits of chicken swimming in it. It wasn't any of that which disturbed the flower girl so much. It was what was no doubt hiding underneath the savory broth.

_Well, there's no way around it._ Aerith thought with a resigned sigh. She swallowed hard, then carefully selected her fork, with all the precision and thoughtfulness a surgeon might use while choosing a scalpel. Then, very surreptitiously, she began searching in her bowl for the offending item that had given her a night of violent sickness the last time she had entered the Yellow Duck restaurant – shiitake mushrooms.

Yes, the thing Aerith so dreaded about this particular restaurant was the fact that it made its signature, special curry with bits of shiitake mushroom. For some reason, ever since she was a child, Aerith had avoided mushrooms. It wasn't that she was allergic or anything, she just didn't like them.

And, considering that the last time she'd gone to the Yellow Duck (with Leon and Yuffie, about three months ago) she'd been sick all night, Aerith's loathing of all mushrooms (especially shiitake) had increased dramatically. Yuffie and Leon had tried in vain to convince the young woman that it could've been a bad potato, or maybe some spoiled chicken that had done this to her, but Aerith didn't listen. Shiitake mushrooms were now on her list of most avoided things.

And now, here she was, having lunch with a young teenager who (though she'd never speak this to anyone) was unbelievably charming and interesting and fascinating, even sweet in his own way – and she had no way to tell him she hated the food he'd ordered.

So Aerith just tried to quickly and quietly scoop the bits of mushroom out of her curry and hide them in her napkin, praying that Roxas's food would keep him so involved that he wouldn't notice. And, of course, her desperate, silent pleadings didn't work.

"Aerith..." Roxas said in a puzzled voice, making the young woman cringe slightly, freezing in the action of dropping another sliver of browned mushroom into her napkin. She silently cursed all things fungus, then slowly glanced up to meet the teenager's vaguely perplexed bright blue eyes. "You...don't like it?" he asked, blinking several times.

He didn't sound particularly crestfallen, but she still felt awful almost immediately, swallowing hard and starting to formulate an explanation. The waiter chose that exact second to return for the bill, leaving it on the edge of the table with a slight bow.

Roxas, still frowning, turned to set the required munny balls on top of it, and sign for it. Feeling utterly miserable, Aerith watched him scribble his name. He had nice handwriting, she noticed gloomily, some part of her mind admiring the way he'd signed the 'Roxas' with a flourish after the 'S'. Roxas.

_Just_ Roxas.

It was the girl's turn to frown now, staring at the simple, one-word signature as Roxas pushed it to one side of the table and continued. "Are you allergic to mushrooms or do you just not like them or...?" he trailed off, arching his eyebrows questioningly.

"You didn't sign your last name." Aerith replied slowly, lifting her head to stare at him intently.

Roxas looked taken aback, glancing back at the bill to confirm that, yes; he had only signed his first name, nothing else. "Oh." he said, half-frowning at the signature as if he'd never seen it before. "Yeah."

Aerith waited patiently for an explanation, but all Roxas did was frown a little deeper, then turn to examine his goat-man. "Um...if you don't mind me asking...why not?" the flower girl pressed after a moment. Roxas shrugged, adjusting the position of the detachable scowling head by a fraction of an inch. "Do you...not have one?" Aerith asked, taking a wild stab into the dark.

To her intense surprise, Roxas nodded once, then grabbed his coffee and took a long drink.

Aerith straightened, eyes widening as she took this in. "You _don't_?" she almost demanded, not sure why this seemed like a big deal, only certain that there was something...amiss with that.

"No." Roxas said, a little briskly, swallowing his coffee and setting down the mug a little too hard. "I do not." He met her eyes, lifting his chin slightly in challenge. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Aerith considered for a moment. Well, no, there wasn't anything particularly WRONG with not having a last name. It was just...well, everyone she'd ever met had last names. It was just...unusual. But then, most things about Roxas WERE unusual. That didn't make them wrong, just different. Just unique. Like him.

A serene smile taking the place of her surprised look, Aerith delicately speared a piece of potato on her fork, saying in her gentle voice, "No, there's nothing wrong with that. It's…quirky." Then she bit into the potato with some relish – after all, she hadn't eaten in nearly two hours.

Roxas seemed surprised that they'd avoided a fight, taking a moment to let his brain catch up with this turn of events. "Oh." he said, half-frowning, then shrugging and embarking on his own search for potato. "All right." They ate in silence for a moment, then Roxas remarked, more to himself than her, "I don't have a last name, you don't like shiitake mushrooms. Those're both weird."

"I wouldn't say they're weird." Aerith said with a laugh.

Roxas arched one eyebrow at her, an almost-smirk on his face. "Quirky then." he amended in a dry voice, licking curry sauce off his spoon to punctuate the sentence.

"That works." Aerith laughed, noticing that he'd managed to get sauce on his nose. Rather than seeming sloppy, it just made him endearing…as in, more endearing than he already was. "And...you shop." she suggested, wanting to perpetuate this conversation about quirky traits.

"Yeah, I shop." Roxas said, giving her a defiant look, which was thoroughly spoiled by the sauce on his nose. Aerith hid a smile, gesturing at her own slightly pointed nose to alert him of the problem. Roxas blinked at her for a moment, not understanding, then he scowled even more fiercly and grabbed his napkin. "I shop." he repeated, swiping at his nose with the napkin. "What about it?"

"Nothing." Aerith said with a little laugh, reaching out and taking the napkin gently from his hand and remedying the sauce situation herself. "It's quirky. Not many boys I know go shopping for faun-shaped piggy banks." She winked at him, letting him know she wasn't mocking him by any means.

Roxas, surprisingly, didn't get the least bit irritated, just sat there and let her carefully dab curry sauce off his nose. "He's a satyr." was his only comment, said in a very soft voice.

Aerith just smiled, examining his nose for a moment, then deciding it passed examination and setting the napkin back on the table. Roxas proceeded to gulp down half his glass of water, which Aerith thought was a wise idea. It was a little warm in the restaurant and he looked rather red.

He seemed a little better after his drink, waving the glass at her as he swallowed. "You put milk in soda." he said, once he could speak normally.

"Yes..." Aerith said slowly, searching for another piece of carrot. "That's not quirky." she continued, giving up and settling for a piece of chicken. She grimaced as she reached out and slowly flicked a piece of mushroom off the piece of meat, adding, "Soda tastes good with milk."

Roxas rolled his eyes when he thought she couldn't see, but all he said was, "Whatever you say." Aerith nodded self-righteously, begin rather proud of her drink concoctions, which included, but weren't limited to soda with milk and lemonade with a pinch of salt.

The blond smiled at her pouty uppity face, slurping down some more sauce – carefully, because he obviously didn't want her to have to minister to his nose again. "But it _is_ quirky." he added with a wicked grin.

Aerith sighed, giving him a patient look that said 'Now, was that really necessary?' Roxas just grinned wider and wiggled his eyebrows, challenging her to top that. "All right..." Aerith replied to his wordless dare, setting down her fork so he would know she meant business. She thought for a moment, scouring every memory she had with Roxas, trying to find something 'quirky' about him.

Finally she found it. "You have a strangely hard to locate pulse!" she said triumphantly, practically beaming.

She expected Roxas to scoff and reply with something even more quirky about her. But all he did was stiffen, ever so slightly and stare at her. "W-what?" he said, blue eyes rather wide.

A little puzzled, Aerith frowned and said slowly, "Well, actually, before I officially met you...I saw you once, after dark. You were...napping or something, on a bench. I was concerned because..." Aerith faltered slightly, finding it strangely hard to tell him she'd been worried about him. She looked down at her lap, shredding her paper napkin into several pieces. "Because, well, sometimes people sleeping on park benches are...drunk or in trouble or...I don't know, I was just worried. You were sleeping so soundly. So, I felt for your pulse."

Roxas flinched. He literally flinched; a look of horror flickering across his face so fast she almost missed it. Aerith blushed slightly, hurrying to reassure him, "I just grabbed your wrist, that's all. I'm a sort of healer, so I know how to find a pulse. But..." she trailed off, frowning even deeper at the memory. "But, try as I might, I couldn't find your heartbeat."

There was dead silence for a moment. Then, in a slightly hoarse voice, Roxas asked, "What did you do?"

Aerith blinked, brought back from the memory of that night, where she'd almost panicked at the pulseless boy, lying on a bench in the middle of the night, wondering why even then she'd cared about him so much. "Well, I was worried for a moment. Then I noticed you were snoring, a little."

Roxas looked taken aback, then a sheepish grin slowly crept across his face. Feeling reassured by that familiar crooked smile, Aerith laughed, hands ceasing their nervous napkin-ripping. "I figured that meant you were alive, so I went home." she concluded.

There was another silence, but this one was more comfortable, relaxed, with both of them thinking quietly. Then Roxas cleared his throat and said, in a cordial voice, "Well, shall we continue with my quirky shopping?"

Aerith smiled, standing and carefully gathering the shopping bags in her hands. "Yes, lets." she said warmly.

_And, later that day, when Aerith hugs him goodbye, briefly, the first time she's ever done such a thing, Roxas tries to enjoy it and tries not to worry about her not feeling his heart pounding like it should, not feeling his heart at all, not ready to let her know about this dark, secret quirk of his..._

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All right, to explain: We've already established Roxas is a shopaholic, right? And there's this very bizarre subplot in the KH 1 manga that Aerith makes her lemonade with salt (Leon refuses to drink it, while Sora, Goofy and Donald love it) and puts milk in soda because 'It tastes great'. Also, while it never exactly SAYS Aerith dislikes shiitake mushrooms, she does find the idea of them in curry absolutely ridiculous.

As for the no last name thing...well, haven't you ever found it weird that all the Squeenix characters up until KH had last names? But Sora, Kairi and Riku are denied them! Therefore, Roxas doesn't have one either. And yes, he signs his checks with a flourish. Cause he's cool like that. XD.

And I'm playing off the idea that the fact that Nobodies don't have hearts means they don't have pulses or anything. 'Hearts' seems to mean something else in the KH world, though. Well, for the sake of a plot device, Roxas has no heart, no heartbeat, no nothing.

Read/review/whatever. :)_  
_


	3. Wish

Okay, this gave me SO MUCH TROUBLE!!! It took forever to get right, when all I REALLY wanted to write was the...one part at the end. (cause it's ABOUT TIME!!!) Even now I'm kinda, meh about it. It's probably awkward in some places, because I cut and switched pieces around, trying to fix it...

Eh, well, it's Roxith, so I can't go too wrong with it. Gads, I love them. :)

Well, enjoy all! I'm off to finish the other 5 fics I'm trying to do XD Hopefully I'll finish the next one-shot and the color theme and post it...tonight or tomorrow. XD

**Disclaimer: I OWN NAUGHT!!! -tears-**

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Aerith seems to be forever wishing. She's a daydream believer, once-upon-a-time, happily-ever-after princess pulled straight from the pages of a fairy tale. Her wishes are numerous and plentiful, meticulously thought-out, carefully considered and worded eloquently in her soft, reverent voice, to the sky above.

It isn't just stars, either. She wishes on everything. Stars, candles, pennies, clovers, horseshoes, cats. Even eyelashes.

Occasionally, she wishes for Roxas, obediently asking for something simple, when he tells her he doesn't have anything to wish for (he always does, though, but he feels…guilty when he wishes, because it still doesn't seem right for a Nobody to presume upon the stars or lucky pennies or even eyelashes.) and then letting the wind carry the wish-laded lash away.

He can still remember the first time she wished something for him. He'd managed to make a complete fool of himself, yet, thinking back, he doesn't want to change a thing about that day…

_At the first sight of the sweet young flower girls pink skirt and ribbon, Roxas panics, shoves on some shoes and grabs the nearest thing off his bed, so he'll look like he has a purpose of some sort, wandering around the Second District. However, when he's halfway out the door, he realizes that he's shoved on one flip-flop and one sneaker and he's holding – an umbrella._

_An UMBRELLA._

_Roxas gapes, first at the offending object in his hands, then at the blue sky and sunshine, then at his feet, knowing there's no way he can go out looking like THIS! He turns to careen back into the house and get some decent footwear (and ditch the dumb umbrella) when Aerith calls out to him, her bright, cheerful, pleasantly surprised voice ringing out across the square like a clear, bright bell, making it impossible for Roxas to pretend he hasn't heard her. Slowly turning back around, the blond glances down at his feet, then at his umbrella, wondering what to do._

_Then, he throws all sense of embarrassment to the wind, holds his head high, shoulders back and, opening the umbrella with a defiant gesture, holds it above his head as he walks, with grave dignity in his flip-flop/sneaker's, down the stairs to where Aerith stands. There's no use in preserving his pride now. And besides, it's better to pretend the umbrella and different shoes aren't out of place, rather than act all ashamed about it._

_Right?_

_As Roxas gets nearer to the cinnamon-haired young woman, he tries his best not to notice her extremely puzzled expression, aimed at his feet and his blue-with-yellow-stars (it couldn't at least have been a simple black one) umbrella. Aerith had stopped to call out to him, but now she's standing very still, head tilted to one side, blinking her jade-green eyes repeatedly in confusion. Roxas can feel a hot blush creeping up his neck, and with an effort he makes himself walk all the way up to her, holding up his umbrella to shelter them both._

"_H'lo Aerith." Roxas says, unable to keep the note of sheepish embarrassment out of his voice. He's never noticed how much TALLER she is than him (well, the other one is still waiting on a growth spurt, so it makes sense that Roxas is too, even though, at sixteen it's starting to become humiliating.), practically requiring him to stand on tiptoe to cover her with the umbrella. "How're you?"_

"_I'm….fine." Aerith says slowly, looking up at the umbrella, then down at him. She's smiling slightly – he's beginning to think it's impossible for her NOT to smile – but she mostly looks perplexed, reaching up to brush her bangs out of her face. "Uh, might I inquire as to…what you're holding?"_

_So polite. As always. Aerith seems possessed with the incredible grace and poise to handle and overcome every obstacle with a gentle smile and a kind word. Roxas often finds himself feeling like a great big clutzy doofus around her, his foot perpetually in his mouth. To avoid eating sneaker (or flip-flop, now that he had a choice) Roxas avoids her eyes, choosing to look straight ahead instead._

_Unfortunately his diminutive height puts him at exact eye level with her chest, making him blush bright red and turn away very quickly, his voice cracking in a very humiliating way as he replies, "An umbrella."_

"_But…it's not even raining." Aerith says with a light laugh, shifting her lavender basket to her other arm. The scent from the flowers – and her – slowly wafts around them, under the dumb umbrella, intoxicating, light, sweet and fresh. A mesmerizing, delicate perfume that makes Roxas's head spin and his knees feel weak. If this wasn't feeling, wishing, longing, what was?_

"_It might." He manages finally, faintly. He knows it's a ridiculous answer, and knows that he's probably given himself away. She probably knows he came out here for the sole purpose of seeing her, that he's obsessed with her, that he thinks about her night and day and has gone so far as to watch for her out his window and run out with two different shoes on, holding an umbrella, to spend two minutes in her presence, and the knowledge that SHE knows brings that hot, embarrassed blush back to his face and –_

_And she's smiling at him._

"_Well," Aerith says in that gentle, sweet way of hers, glancing at the umbrella, then back at him, a brilliant, beautiful smile curling her perfect lips, making her glow from the inside-out. "That was very thoughtful of you, Roxas. Thank you."_

_After a stunned moment, Roxas clears his throat and manages to whisper hoarsely. "You're welcome." She smiles even deeper, meeting his gaze with her smooth emerald one and he can't take his eyes off her. His feet move without any conscious effort as she continues on her way, adjusting her pace to stay under his stupid, lame, WONDERFUL umbrella that keeps them side-by-side, so close he can feel her elbow brush against his every so often, making him even dizzier than before._

_She's talking about something, but he isn't hearing anything. He's just trying to keep up, trying not to pass out from happiness and giddiness, trying to nod in the appropriate spots, trying not to stare at her lips, moving as she speaks, just trying not to stare, period, at her. Of course, such a thing is impossible, but hey, Roxas won't let it be said that he didn't try. _

_They meander lazily across the square, under an umbrella, while the sunshine shines down around them and his shoes alternately squeak and clap against the cobblestones. There might be people staring in confusion at the odd picture, but at this point, neither of them cares. It seems perfectly natural to be taking a walk in the middle of June, under an umbrella. Though, truthfully, if you asked Roxas then, he wouldn't remember there were other people, or umbrella's or flip-flops or even flowers._

_There was only Aerith._

_She's still chatting with (or at) him, even though it's like talking to a brick wall, because he doesn't respond, for fear his voice would betray everything he's feeling. She sits down on a bench, with a contented sigh, and he takes his place next to her, still holding the umbrella above them. Her long graceful fingers absently sort through the tiny lavender blossoms, discarding one or two bruised ones and letting the light summer wind scatter them across the square. She turns to meet Roxas's eyes, to remark on something-or-other, then stops._

"_What?" he says, frowning slightly, brought out of his dazed stupor by the power of those eyes, focused on his face. Actually she's looking intently at his left cheekbone, for some reason. "Aerith, what is it?" She doesn't seem to hear the question, abruptly reaching up, towards his face._

_Roxas can't help himself, and he flinches, jerking away and almost dropping the umbrella. Aerith blinks once or twice, then offers him a small smile. "It's okay." she says softly, soothingly, not explaining herself, just reassuring him that everything's fine. And somehow that's enough. Arching his eyebrows in skepticism, Roxas stays perfectly still, closing his eyes in spite of himself as her fingertips brush his cheek, momentarily. _

_He thinks suddenly that this is the first time she's really touched him._

_And then it's over and she's straightening and examining her pointer finger with grave interest. Roxas blinks, face warming as a slight blush creeps across it, making the warm June day seem even warmer. Clearing his throat and trying to appear nonchalant, he leans forward to see what was so important. Resting on her fingertip is a hair, tiny and half-moon-shaped, glinting slightly in the sunlight._

"_Eyelash." Aerith explains simply, laughing softly as he holds his breath, not wanting to blow it away. "Yours, actually, so you get to wish."_

"_I get to what?" Roxas repeats, frowning at her, then at the eyelash that's caused all this. Being male, he doesn't particularly want much attention drawn to his eyelashes. That's a distinctly feminine thing, right? But, for all his short days, he's had people mentioning how long they are. He came very close to strangling his best friend on more than one occasion, after growling for the millionth time that, yes, he was born with it, Maybelline had nothing to do with it, now shut up._

"_Wish on it." Aerith says, giving him a puzzled look, as if surprised at his incomprehension. "You get to wish on eyelashes, if you find one and catch it." Roxas nods slowly, thinking that she's making it sound like eyelashes are some rare, elusive animal that needs to be hunted and caught. Then she smiles and he decides it's not that weird. "Just say your wish and blow it away." She says, carefully stretching her hand towards him._

_But Roxas shakes his head, gently pushing on her wrist with his free hand (the one that isn't still holding the umbrella) and lowering his head, because he can't meet her eyes. "I don't have any wishes." He mumbles softly, staring at his feet, his yellow flip-flop and black sneaker. "You wish." _

_A mildly concerned frown creases her forehead, and for a moment he hates himself for distressing her. "You must have some wishes, Roxas." Aerith says gently, leaning forward to try and meet his eyes. The curls of hair that hang on either side of her face like a picture frame almost brush his arm as she gracefully contorts herself and looks into his eyes. "I know you do." she says in a soft voice._

_Aerith has that quality of reading people, and Roxas blushes again, certain she can see through him like glass. He quickly turns away and says, very shortly, "No, I don't. You wish for something." _Because, after all_, he thinks bitterly, watching out of the corner of his eyes as she sits up straighter and frowns thoughtfully, _You deserve it more than I do, Aerith…

"_Well, all right then." the flower girl says with a resigned sigh, pursing her lips in deep thought and examining the eyelash as if to see how big a wish it's capable of carrying. Roxas waits, trying not to stare at her lips again. Suddenly Aerith brightens, giving him a sweet, mischievous grin. "But you have to help me blow it away!"_

"_Too heavy for you?" Roxas teases with a smile of his own, making her laugh and nod in mock embarrassment. He feels a bit better at that, leaning forward and readying himself as she brings the eyelash-bearing finger to eye level and presses her lips together in thought. In the few days he's known her, Aerith has never made any sort of decision without careful consideration._

_Finally she nods once, mentally approving her silent decision, then clears her throat. "I wish," she begins in a soft, respectful tone to the eyelash. "That this summer be full of many more days like this, where we don't need umbrella;s, we just use them because we like them." Roxas rolls his eyes briefly, but smiles and takes a deep breath, ready to send the wish-laded lash off into the sunset._

_But she's not finished._

"_And…" Aerith continues slowly, hesitantly. "I also wish…" She trails off and, confused, Roxas glances over to meet her eyes. She looks back at him, shy but unwavering, swallowing hard and finishing in a very soft voice, "That I could make some of your wishes come true too, Roxas."_

_He's speechless, breathless, so she's the one whose puff of air sends the eyelash into the wind. Aerith watches after it, her lips still formed in a delicate O, though there's already a gentle smile curling the corners of it. She finally turns from watching her wishes – for herself, for him, for them – fly into the wind, and meets his gaze again, so close he can feel her breath, lips still making a perfect rosebud-colored bow, inches from his._

_And it's too much temptation to resist._

_Of course, he dropped the umbrella, because he was busy cupping her face in his hands, but the thing was useless in the middle of summer and, anyways, it was pretty ugly with those garish neon-yellow stars and the pastel-blue background, he never really liked it much, and he didn't even notice, because he was lost in her, taste and scent and sound and feeling, and nothing else mattered._

"_Does this mean you'll tell me some of your wishes now?" she whispers when they come up for air, her eyes bright as emeralds, luminous as the ocean, her smile still resonating on his lips._

_Roxas smiles, tangling his fingers gently in her hair and brushing the tip of his nose against hers. "That was one of them." He whispers back._

Being a Nobody had a way of teaching you that it's better not to wish for too many things. Wishing, hoping, dreaming...they're all activities reserved for those gifted with hearts. Yet, to feel, to express, to have emotion, to _wish_ seemed like the most impossibly wonderful thing to Roxas, and he devoted every moment he could to making that ideal (he wouldn't call it a wish, because a heartless being couldn't wish) a reality.

When Roxas finally had an occasion to wish, however, he found it wasn't exactly as he'd pictured. But then, most things he'd envied in Somebody's – happiness, daydreaming, even loving – weren't as picturesque as they'd seemed. Wishing was no different.

What Roxas hadn't known, back in his first few days, was that everything you did that involved those with hearts in any way, was tempered with sadness. He knew now. Because every wish, dream, hope he had in his few brief days in that town, was centered solely around a girl who he was forbidden from…forever.

And that knowledge made him want to cry empty, emotionless tears of agony and bliss when she kissed him, simultaneously making his wishes come true – and dashing them to pieces.

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...only I could go right from a suitably smoochy moment to reminding you all that Roxas is angst-bucket of the year. XD Oh well. At least we FINALLY got some kissing action going on! Mwa. I need me sommore of that Roxith kissing goodness. :3

That actually turned out pretty okay. I'm happy. :D Now I've gotta go write the next one-shot and my prom fic and my color fic and the rest of my request and a birthday fic...-wanders off mumbling to herself-

(oh, by the way, yes, I do wish on eyelashes. I've even almost done it to strangers, poked them in the face, then gleefully displayed their shedded eyelash to them. XD)


	4. Waltz

-pulls hair out- This ficlet took me FOR-EV-ER to write!! I think I actually started it BEFORE most of my other things, it just took forever to get to the ending...but, now it's done, and I'm a happy Mahou. .

Besides, I love this ficlet to bits, so I couldn't just abandon it and go write something else. XD I just love dancing (watching it, failing at it, giggling at myself for failing at it) and I think it's one of the most romantic things in the world. So, naturally, I had to make the ever-cute Roxith involve some dancing. .

Okay all, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: If I owned KH, I wouldn't be WRITING about it, I'd be making it HAPPEN! XD**

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"Come on, now, Roxas, this isn't difficult. Now, put your hand on my waist."

Roxas's bright blue eyes widened slightly in sheer horror at this gently chastising comment, and he waited for a moment, hoping desperately that Aerith would realize what sort of impossibility she was asking of him. But it was too late. The young woman had already sighed, rolling her eyes in a bemused, affectionate way, and stepped forward. Before Roxas even had time to react, she'd gently captured both his wrists in her hands, lacing the fingers of her right hand with the ones of his left and, most frightening of all, placing the other one firmly on the curve of her waist.

The instant she returned her other hand to rest lightly on his shoulder, Roxas froze absolutely solid and refused to move an inch. Really, this was ridiculous. There was no point in her teaching him to dance. No point whatsoever. He would never need to use this skill. He was certain he'd never be called upon to perform it in any dire situation. If it had been something useful, like a healing spell, or perhaps a new fighting technique, Roxas could've handled it easily.

But not this. Not dancing. Not something that required him to come in physical contact with an extremely lovely member of the opposite sex. No. He couldn't do it. She couldn't ask it of him. There was no way. Roxas had made his decision and he was standing by it.

However, Aerith had no way of knowing the strong convictions he'd firmly set up. As far as she knew, her mild comments had subdued him. So, as soon as the music on the old record player started, Aerith began to dance.

It was extremely difficult, though, to waltz when your dancing partner was doing a very good impression of an immovable boulder, complete with a stony face and a resolute look in their cerulean eyes. Aerith tripped over her own feet, then sighed heavily, releasing Roxas's hands and trying to rethink her strategy.

"Roxas..." she began in a weary voice, massaging her forehead with one long-fingered hand, trying to ward off the stress headache that inevitable came along whenever the young blond was being particularly stubborn. Like now.

"What?" Roxas said sourly, crossing his arms and half-pouting at the brunette girl. "I don't see why this is so important to you, Aerith. I mean, it's _dancing_."

"I happen to enjoy dancing." Aerith said smoothly, going over and stopping the record player so she didn't have to shout over the loud (albeit melodious) strains of classical music. Straightening her long braid, the girl arched one eyebrow at the boy and said, in a voice that on anyone else would've seemed flat, "I believe I explained this all to you when you arrived, minutes ago."

Roxas sighed heavily, sitting down hard in an armchair which had been pushed to one side. "You explained it when I walked in, out of the cold, desperate for warmth, and I agreed because I didn't want to go freeze to death." he said with a wounded sniff, crossing his arms tighter and scowling at the young woman as she took her seat in another chair.

The almost perpetual smile on Aerith's rose-colored lips deepened slightly as she hid a laugh and reminded the boy gently, "Roxas, it's June. It must be near sixty-five degrees outside."

Roxas seemed momentarily thrown, then he slouched even more in his seat and muttered, "Well, it seemed cold."

Aerith hid a sigh, glancing down at her lap and absently brushing dust off her pink skirt. She'd been going through some old records when she found the one with waltz music and, flooded with endless memories of dancing, had decided to refresh herself on the steps. A few minutes of trying proved that it was harder to practice while dancing with thin air, so Aerith had called the next best thing – Roxas.

True, she'd been a bit vague on what she'd wanted him to 'help' her with, and true, he had looked rather alarmed when he'd arrived to find her living room completely rearranged, with all the furniture shoved to either side, leaving a bare space for a dancing floor, records and player at the ready. But really, it was just a bit of dancing. What was he so uptight and...well, nervous about?

"I suppose you really don't have to if you don't want to." Aerith said suddenly, folding her hands in her lap and keeping her head bowed in a meek, resigned gesture. "I can just try and dance by myself…" She could sense Roxas giving her one of those scowls he wore when he was trying to figure out what she was doing. He was right to be suspicious, as Aerith was well-aware he couldn't resist her for long. All it took was a few well-placed sighs and, of course, her not-so-secret weapon: half-smiling in mock defeat, Aerith glanced up briefly and met his gaze with her large, long-lashed green eyes.

And that was all it took. "All right, all right, I'll do it." Roxas muttered, face turning slightly pink as she smiled brilliantly and leapt to her feet. He'd been tricked and he knew it. He also knew he didn't have a chance in the world of refusing Aerith when she gave him a look out of those eyes. Honestly, if she could bottle the power in them, all other types of magic would become obsolete.

"Wonderful!" Aerith practically sang out, gliding over to the record player and turning it on. The soft melody of the waltz filled the small living room as she skipped back over to Roxas (who was noticing that she practically danced wherever she went anyways, so why did she need to learn to officially dance?) and held out her hands. He gave her a plaintive look which was answered by another pleading gaze from her lovely eyes. Sighing heavily, Roxas resigned himself to his fate, then slowly took both her hands.

Had it felt that electric before, touching her? Had it made his head spin that much to feel the gentle curve from waist to hip under his hand, or the slightest whisper of her fingers on his shoulder as she lifted her chin and smiled warmly at him? Had it made him feel like he was floating, feet barely skimming the ground as they stepped forward, back, the gentle pressure on his shoulder guiding him, instructing him without words in the dance? Most of all…had she smiled at him like that, like they'd been dancing together for years, twirling around her living room, picking up speed until they were barely touching the floor, like he belonged there, hand in hand with this angel on earth, waltzing with her and feeling, for a brief moment, like he could fly?

"You're a natural, Roxas." The music was so loud, Aerith had to speak right into Roxas's ear, making him jump slightly at how close she was. He could feel the gentle brush of her cheek against his, and her breath tickled his ear as she laughed softly, resting her hand a little more solidly on his shoulder. " I think you were born for this." She said in an almost teasing tone.

"Oh really?" Roxas managed to reply, in a voice that only wavered slightly, before the music swelled and they parted for a moment. On a whim, Roxas released her waist, holding his hand, with her lily-colored one wrapped tightly in it, as high as he could. Aerith paused for a moment, then smiled happily and let him twirl her, her long pink skirt flaring out around her, showing the slightest glimpse of her ankles. It was then Roxas realized she was barefoot, for the first time since he'd met her. It seemed fitting, almost, dancing barefoot with Aerith.

"You're getting it." the girl said in a delighted voice, face flushed slightly, green eyes dancing like her delicate bare feet. There were strands of smooth milk chocolate hair falling into her face as she let him pull her close again, this time wrapping his arm around her waist without a hint of embarrassment. "You're really, really getting it!" Aerith said, sounding exhilarated by this fact.

Roxas shrugged, as if to say he didn't know if THAT was true, and she giggled, pushing his shoulder lightly, teasing him. "Now." She said in a brisk, maternal tone, skipping over her boots, which lay in a heap to one side. "Say it with me!" The blond teenager stumbled over the shoes, confused by this new command, furrowing his brow in a bewildered manner. Aerith laughed again, pausing momentarily and urging, "Come on, Roxas, say it. Say you're getting it."

"No." Roxas said, half-indignant, half-laughing, trying to get back to that whirling, twirling thing that had been so much fun. But it was Aerith's turn to stand stock still, arching her eyebrows and giving him an expectant look. The boy raised his eyebrows in return, saying with a laugh, "Aerith, I'm not going to say it!"

"Oh, come on." she said good-naturedly, though she let go of his hand and used it to wag her finger in warning. "If you don't believe it, it isn't true. Now, repeat after me: Roxas is getting it."

"Aerith, I am not-" Roxas began, a little irritated at the sudden lack of physical contact. It was strange how three minutes ago he would've rather died than hold her hand, and now he never wanted to stop.

"Roxas is GETTING it!" Aerith sang out, taking her hand off his shoulder and spinning in a little circle of her own. "Roxas is starting to get the hang of waltzing and he's very talented!" She paused, hugging herself happily, like a little girl, a mini wannabe ballerina, standing on tiptoe and pleading, "Come on, Roxas. Positive reinforcement. Not that difficult."

There was that 'not that difficult' thing again. She really didn't seem to understand what was easy for her was NOT easy for him . Roxas sighed, crossing his arms and arching one eyebrow at her, refusing to budge from his position. Aerith looked gloomy for a moment, then brightened as an idea crossed her mind. "If you say it, I'll teach you to slow-dance." She said enticingly, giving him a deceptively innocent grin.

Where did she come UP with these things? Roxas tried, he genuinely tried to resist. But in the end, it was no use. "Fine." He grumbled. Then, rolling his eyes and trying to convey as much as possible how stupid he found all this, he obediently repeated, in a sing-song voice, "Roxas is getting it."

"Good." Aerith said happily, stepping forward and reclaiming his hand and shoulder, smiling when he almost-too-eagerly grabbed her hand and waist, already starting to spin her in graceful circles. They resumed waltzing for a moment, her beaming happily, him still wearing that half-sarcastic smirk.

Just as Aerith was about to move into her promised slow-dance instruction (the music was slowly changing from a light waltz to a slow, smooth, syrupy song) Roxas mumbled to himself, "Roxas is getting it, Roxas it getting it…Aerith is _lying_ about Roxas getting it…Aerith is making Roxas speak in the third person and feel like a _fool_…"

"Oh, be quiet." Aerith said, unable to hide her giggles. Roxas grinned up at her, then abruptly froze as the music changed and, taking her cue, the green-eyed girl stepped closer. MUCH closer. As if entirely unaware of his wide eyes and the fact that his breathing had completely stopped, Aerith busied herself with adjusting his arm so it was _literally_ around her waist (as in resting on the small of her back) and moving so close they were practically shoulder-to-shoulder, stomach-to-stomach, chest-to –

"Aerith, what are you doing?" Roxas inquired in a tone that he hoped wasn't too panicked and/or frightened. She didn't answer for a moment, too busy setting her hand on the back of his neck and counting the beats of the music in her head. After a couple seconds, she started dancing again, this time much slower, gentler, easier, a swaying, stepping motion that, had he been doing it right, Roxas was certain would've been the epitome of graceful romance.

However, he was not doing it right. Because he was still trying to process the fact that she was TOUCHING HIS NECK.

"Teaching you to slow dance." Aerith said in a good-natured, matter-of-fact tone, as if they were sitting in armchairs across the room from each other and discussing the weather, rather than dancing very slowly and closely in her living room. It took Roxas a moment to remember that he'd just asked her a question. What was it? Why had he asked it? What was a question again? He couldn't quite recall. The entire world seemed to consist of her hand on his neck and his hand on her back. In fact, he could barely even remember his own name.

"Oh." he replied after a moment, because it seemed like a reply was required. Aerith nodded happily, and, slowly, gradually, with her help, he almost started to get it. Back and forth, back and forth, slower, gentler, more gradual than the waltz. Smooth and soft and light like butter, like sunshine, like her hand on his neck. A dance made for shy, awkward teenagers on their first date and wrinkled old people on their sixtieth wedding anniversary.

A dance made for love.

"So…do you dance often?" Roxas asked slowly, trying to hide the hot blush (it was so humiliating that he was always blushing around her) that was turning the tips of his ears deep crimson. He shouldn't allow himself to think too much, especially not about that word. If he let himself dwell on it, he'd start making plans, the kind of plans people like him were never allowed to make.

"Mmm, not as much as I'd want to." Aerith said in a tone of vague lament, gliding across the floor on tiptoe while he stumbled after her in his too-big shoes. Roxas nodded slightly, staring at his feet and trying to keep up, praying desperately that he wouldn't step on her feet. But her next comment surprised him.

"When I was little, I used to dream about going to parties and balls and dancing all night long with some handsome prince." A quick glance up showed that her flawless face was wistful, a little regretful, sad. "I made so many plans, so many wishes." Aerith said softly, the sadness lingering in her deep green eyes almost tangible. "And I waited and waited…"

"Aerith." Roxas said softly, eyes fixed on her face as she slowly stopped dancing, a look of unending pain showing in her eyes for a moment. Her hands suddenly felt cold in his and, anxious to remedy this – because nobody this beautiful, this perfect, should ever have to feel the hurt she was clearly feeling – Roxas squeezed them as tight as he could, and repeated, "Aerith…"

She half-jumped, looking down at him in a confused, bewildered way, brow furrowing, opening her mouth as if meaning to say something. Then the moment passed and, with a self-conscious little laugh and a sheepish look, she squeezed his hands back. "Well, now I always have something to daydream about when I do dance." She said simply, happily, as if there was nothing wrong.

Roxas didn't quite believe her, but he obediently returned to dancing, keeping his gaze on her face now, rather than his feet. No particular reason, other than that her face was very nice to look at, and he really wanted to keep an eye out, in case she got that wounded look again. "So." He said after a moment of slow-dancing. "You imagine you're at some ball when you dance?"

"Yes." Aerith replied with an embarrassed laugh, her face slightly flushed, most likely from the dancing. "It may seem silly, but it's fun."

"Hm." Roxas pursed his lips thoughtfully, taking careful measure to step over her shoes. "Are you imagining now?" he pressed suddenly, an idea occurring to him. She'd looked happy, momentarily, when she was talking about her dreams as a child. Maybe if he got her talking about those blissful times, she wouldn't think about the time she'd spent waiting.

For a moment the young woman hesitated, her face even more pink now. Then, finally, lifting her chin in a vague challenge, she replied smoothly, "Yes. I am."

"Tell me about it."

That surprised her, and Roxas suppressed a smug smile. She'd probably been expecting him to laugh, to think daydreaming while dancing was silly. But now, discovering he felt otherwise… "I'm in a ballroom." Aerith began slowly, getting a far-off look in her green eyes, even though her feet never faltered. "It has high white pillars and tapestries and murals on the walls and ceiling. There are people everywhere, all dressed in beautiful gowns and suits and jewels."

"Are you wearing a beautiful gown?" Roxas inquired conversationally, as if he talked daydreams with girls everyday.

Aerith tilted her head to one side and smiled. "Yes." She said happily, with a little giggle. "It's light, though, for better dancing. And I have a matching ribbon in my hair."

"Color?" She certainly had vivid dreams. Roxas could almost see it, but he was interested in the details, such as how she looked.

A faint frown crossed her face. "Um…pink?" she said finally, almost as a question. Roxas glanced at her pale pink dress and ribbon, the same thing she wore everyday, then arched one eyebrow at her, as if to say 'c'mon, you can be more creative than THAT.' With a slightly embarrassed, albeit amused laugh, Aerith stepped back, prompting him to twirl her again, and said, "All right then, yellow."

"Blue would be nice." Roxas informed her matter-of-factly, obediently spinning her in a slow circle, then setting his arm back around her. "It would match your eyes."

"My eyes are green, Roxas." Aerith said in a tone of vague puzzlement, tilting her head to one side, her long bangs brushing his shoulder. He glanced up and met those green (green didn't seem like a good enough, vivid enough word. Jade, emerald, peridot, leaf, winter, pine…something more than just green) eyes of hers, appearing to consider for a moment.

"I know that." he said, in a vaguely flustered voice, feeling his face grow warm again, wondering why it was abruptly so difficult to breath. Maybe he was wearing his shirt collar a little too tight. "I meant it'd…contrast well." He said finally, using an art term he'd picked up…from someone. A while ago.

Aerith smiled thoughtfully at this interesting term. "Oh, I see." she murmured in a tone of vague reverence, arching one eyebrow, in a very knowing manner. But, to Roxas's great relief, she chose not to pursue it, humming along to the music and lightening her step a little, as it picked up.

Clearing his throat and speeding up as well, Roxas went back to her daydream. "And who are you dancing with, in your contrasting blue dress and ribbons?" he inquired with a mischievous grin that was rather unsuccessful, as he stumbled once more, over the edge of the carpet. Well, she was going pretty fast. He wasn't sure this even qualified as slow-dancing anymore.

"A boy." Aerith said off-handedly, though her flying feet hesitated a little, despite the music's quick pace.

Roxas didn't really take note of this, though he was relieved that he didn't have to run in order to keep up with her anymore. "Well, you'd look pretty silly, dancing with a girl." He teased her lightly. Aerith gave a short, flighty laugh that sounded extremely forced, and the boy noticed that, for the first time all evening, she was avoiding his gaze. "What does this boy look like?" was his next question.

He hadn't meant anything by it. The rest of her daydream had been so vivid, that he assumed her dancing partner would be too. He didn't know it would affect her like it did. He didn't know it would cause her the anxiety, the fretting, the guilt it did.

He didn't KNOW it would HURT her like it did.

"He's blond." Aerith replied, in such a short voice that Roxas froze, bewildered by her tone. Aerith, sweet, calm, gentle, elegant, graceful Aerith didn't use short tones or harsh words. And she didn't pull her hands away so quickly it felt like a slap in the face as she added bitterly, "With blue eyes." As he stared at her, wondering, wondering, she turned away and hugged herself tightly, mumbling, "Nice suit. Good dancer. All that."

And Roxas got it.

Swallowing hard, needing to ask her, needing to know, Roxas slowly stepped forward to where she stood, a slim, trembling form silhouetted against the window by the streetlamp. "What's his name?" he said in a hoarse whisper, the words tearing at his throat even as he said them.

"I don't _know_." Aerith said back, almost tears in her voice as she turned away, hugging herself tighter, gripping her arms so tightly her fingers left whiter marks on her white skin. "He's…I'm…I don't know his name. I don't know who it is. I don't know, Roxas, I don't know."

He wanted to reach out and hold her, but he knew that'd only make it worse. So he settled for touching her arm, brushing her cold, cold skin with his fingertips and making her look up at him. And he hated himself for the glint of tears he saw in her eyes. Roxas half-smiled. "Aerith is lying." He said softly, shrugging one shoulder, wanting to apologize, to beg her forgiveness for making her choose. But instead he just turned to leave.

Aerith grabbed his wrist, suddenly, almost too tightly, almost painfully, and the desperation in her grip made him turn back around. "Yes." She whispered, smiling gently, even though the tears were welling at the corners of her eyes and he could feel her hand trembling as it clutched his, as she stepped closer, and set the other one on his face. "Yes, Aerith is lying."

And Roxas doesn't know if she's confirming or denying his worst fears. He doesn't know if she's reassuring him of the blond boy's identity, or if she's begging for forgiveness because it isn't who he wants it to be. He just can't tell whether this is to comfort or inform him. And, really, it doesn't matter anymore, why she's kissing him.

All that matters is that _she's kissing him_.

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Is it possible for me to write a Roxith fic that DOESN'T have an angsty ending?

No. No it's not. XD

Read/review/waltz. :D


	5. Bane

Hello my darlings. In honor of the fact that I'm going on vacation for a week, I'm uploading some lovelies to keep you all content and happy. Aren't I merciful and kind master? 

Hee, this first fic is actually the first songfic in Flower Girl & Shadow Boy, as well as the first bit of Musicale. Yep, I have about...twenty Roxith songfics rolling around in my head, mostly drawn from Broadway musicals (cause I'm a nerd like that). This first one is "How I Am" from _Little Women, _for the theme **Bane. **

Hope you enjoy it, dearies!

**Disclaimer: **I own naught, save for Leon's jacket. Seriously, he gave it to me. 

* * *

_Who asked him to come and go and to leave me like that?_

During the long lonely nights after the storms have raged and howled and spent themselves outside her stained glass windows, Aerith stands on the balcony, wraps herself tightly in Leon's old jacket, inhales the scent of damp soil and molding wood and swears that she hates him. 

She stands there and feels the droplets of water fall from the scalloped rooftop and drip down the back of her neck and she hates him and hates him and hates him. She hates his soft voice and the lies he told with it. She hates his pretty sapphire eyes and how he never could quite look straight at her with them. She hates his silky, messy, sunlit hair and the way she became addicted to playing with it. She hates his earth-and-chocolate scent and how her heart still quickens when she catches a whiff of it. She hates his long fingered hands and how they never held hers tight enough. She hates those big feet of his that he always carelessly propped up on her coffee table in order to tease her and how they took him far away from her, forever, not once turning to look back.

Aerith hates everything, every little thing, every single, solitary, tiny, awful, wonderful thing about him and she hates the way she can't forget him, no matter how hard she tries. She never wanted it, never asked him to come to her simple, idyllic, dreary town and turn everything upside down and make her believe he was different, he was special, and she was special because of him, and make her hope that things would be better and then _leave her like that_. 

Aerith stands on her balcony, wrapped in Leon's old jacket, and she watches the clouds roll in over the stars and she hates him for existing and she hates him for leaving her and she hates him for loving her and she hates **herself** for remembering him, even after all this time.

And it starts to rain again.

**Who asked her to change how I live, how I think, how I am?**

During those rare quiet moments when he can sit alone in the blistering daylight that reigns over whatever town he's managed to find himself in (for he always rests in the day, travels in the night) Roxas folds his hands and closes his eyes and relaxes his tense muscles and remembers her.

He sits, listening to the birds sing and feeling the wind blow his tousled blond hair away from his travel-worn face and he remembers, remembers, remembers her. He remembers her sweet laugh and how it's poignant realness made his breath grow short. He remembers her perfectly formed mouth and how the words it spoke made him rethink everything he thought he knew. He remembers her long graceful arms and how the careless way she flung them open to embrace the world made him marvel at her trust and acceptance. He remembers her moments of fire and passion and how the way their glory outshone even his greatest moments made him ache for the realness that defined her, that flew like stardust and sunbeams from every inch of her.

Roxas remembers everything, every little thing, every single, solitary, tiny, brilliant, perfect thing about her and he remembers how he hurt her, abandoned her, left her. He never expected her to do what she did to him, to see him, know him, want him, to reach past every defense he'd ever built and come close to what he really was and then to love him, to cherish and adore him, to lavish all that sweet affection on him and _change the very heart of him._

Roxas sits there, in a quiet idyllic village with his hands folded and his eyes closed and he feels the warmth of the suns rays and he remembers how she was and how she is and he remembers what she did and what she said and he remembers what **he** is and what **he** did and he hates himself for it.

And the sun shines on.

* * *

Heh, I love that song...ahem, so, I'm off on vacation, my beloveds! Have a gorgeous Easter weekend! Oh, and if anyone has any idea's for Roxith-esque songs from musicals, PM me. I'm always up for new idea's. 

Read/review/go sing a song. 


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